


Famous

by redscout



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 11:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12652278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redscout/pseuds/redscout
Summary: She’s not the kind to date because she’s planning on settling down in a ranch house with four kids and a dog running around, but because it’s fun, and to miss out on that is a life unlived.





	Famous

She’s not the kind to date because she’s planning on settling down in a ranch house with four kids and a dog running around, but because it’s fun, and to miss out on that is a life unlived. They're only doing this because there's nothing else to do, nobody else to really fool around with and that _knows_ what fooling around is like. His soft and ever-present appreciation for life does not wain in the slightest around her, aware of every move she makes, every time she looks at him, and he develops a new pair of rose-colored glasses with which to stare through.

Her penchant for silence draws him in, makes it easier to pretend it’s just a fling he’d have back home with a girl who barely cared for him, and in retrospect it’s the same, just in the middle of some useless canyon on a planet nobody cares about. It’s easier to pretend he’s not being secretive about it, either, because she’s just a shadow; that little blip of intimacy isn’t even anything on the radar because most of the time she’s not even there. But man, is she beautiful. 

Her hair is a lot thinner than his family’s, and maybe that’s why it’s so fascinating to pull fingers through. She’s not tender-headed, either, and pretends not to enjoy the act more than he knows she does. Every time she laughs is some different kind of gift because it’s not often, and it’s really, truly earned, and she makes that evident by the smirk she throws out afterwards, saying _cherish that, pretty boy, it’s all you’ll get out of me_. He’s highly aware of his eagerness, the shame he feels whenever she pushes him back with the tips of her fingers, and he lets her because it’s all he has sometimes, might as well own up to a little desire. She knows just as well, anyway. She told him once it made him admirable. 

Sometimes Grif feels guilty about it. Sometimes he wonders if anybody else knows, if anybody else cares. Sometimes he wonders if they care. Sometimes he likes to feel the heat of her breath on his neck and her fingers on the skin of his shoulders, pressing deeper than his flesh and touching his soul with something years bygone that he can barely remember. Sometimes he thinks he loves her. Sometimes she smiles right into his ear, and sometimes he doesn’t really care at all. 

Sometimes he feels like a celebrity, and in truth it’s not a sometimes, it’s an always, because he knows she’s a celebrity, too. Some days are farther apart than others and those are the moments when it could be and then cease to be in an instant, not out of malice or disdain, but simply because something like them won’t last, and nobody will question it— they were famous, they were rich and distracted and didn’t _really_ care, it was bound to happen at some point. He supposes he doesn’t care, when it comes down to it, he wouldn’t be exceptionally hurt or upset over her absence because it’s not like her absence is something to trip yourself up over in the first place. He thinks maybe he’d miss the attention and the contact but he’s positive that’s all they really are in the first place, she doesn’t love him and he’s desperate for something dirty and different and familiar. He’s desperate to be back home and doing this, doing it somewhere and with someone that really matters. Because in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter, and trying to make it matter, thinking it matters, doesn’t make it matter any more than it already doesn’t. He’d live and die in this canyon, maybe never even tell Church his girlfriend was cheating on him for two years, and nobody would bat an eye, probably not even carve his name in the rock they’d call a tombstone or send a letter home to a mom that doesn’t care anyway. 

Sometimes he wonders what it would be like if they truly loved one another. Sometimes it’s during the very final light of the evening and he probably shouldn’t be awake because she isn’t, but he is anyway. Sometimes he feels like he wants it more than anything. Sometimes he’s sure that they _could._ But then he remembers that there’s always going to be a void there. No matter how tangled she lets her hair be, no matter how many times she laughs, no matter how many times he buries his face in that thin neck of hers, breathing, living, the intense, metaphysical separation will still be there. After all, they’re famous— it can’t be any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> oof been thinkin about bi grif lately and also. texgrif. but, especially, onesided texgrif, eh, you feel me. anyway. sorry its short and not really writing


End file.
